Chasing Her Curves

By Christa Wick

Ginny:

I swear, the man has got some kind of professional billionaire player handbook he's operating out of. Not to mention a truckload of tenacious swooniness going for him. But I've got my reasons for keeping my guard up. He's good. Too good. And if I don't watch myself, I'm going to end up tripping and falling right on his...

 

Hawk:

I swear, the woman doesn't just have her defenses up, she's got a fully armed artillery pointed straight at my balls. She's sweet though, underneath all the cactus-like prickliness. Smart, too. Convincing her to come work for me was step one. And step two? Hell, let me just focus on surviving step one with all my favorite body parts intact first...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christa Wick
• Release date: Nov 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223216155

Book preview

1

Ginny

I wanted to ignore the car on the side of the road and just go about my business. Normally, I could’ve without too much extra thought.

It was a black vintage Mustang with steam billowing from its engine--not a remotely common sight around these parts--and it was about two-hundred feet past my turn.

Just keep driving, Virginia.

I looked in my rearview mirror and saw nothing but open road, which wasn’t surprising since there was never a lot of traffic on this road between noon and six.

Don’t you stop.

I really couldn’t. Pressed for time, I had half an hour to drive the five miles from Roy's Steakhouse back home to check in on my father, make him a quick lunch, and give him his medicine before I had to hustle to get my butt back to work.

With Dad recovering from major back surgery and basically immobile, we’d all been chipping in to help. For me, that meant dad duty during my lunch breaks for at least another four weeks. But if I returned late even one more time this week, Roy was going to have my head and some other girl was going to have my apron at the restaurant.

I couldn’t lose my job, but then again, neither could anyone else in my family. Momma worked an hour away, and my brother Beau wasn't allowed to leave his worksite, whichever one he was at for the day. So, that left me. The bleeding heart of the family.

And empty roads, too, apparently.

I eyed the stranded car again as I closed in on my exit.

Glancing at the dashboard clock one more time, I released a string of words that would’ve gotten my butt tanned if Momma had been riding with me.

The last thing I needed was some out-of-towner with an expensive, restored antique vehicle screwing with my tight schedule. But the heat index was already pushing one-hundred-ten degrees, which meant the stranded driver was in for a long, sweltering afternoon wait if I didn’t go over to help him. And all the driver was doing was circling his car with his cell phone in the air like that was going to help his zero bars of reception. Hell, he wasn’t going to get a signal out here no matter how long he did that.

Letting loose another stream of curses, I drove past my turn and pulled to a stop behind the Mustang. Since mine was a beat-up Chevy truck from the early 80s, I always carried a gallon jug filled with water on the passenger floor and a small toolset next to it. I grabbed both and climbed down from the truck's cab, getting over to him in a few quick strides.

Hey, I appreciate you stopping. You're the first person I’ve seen in—

I charged right past him, not bothering to hear him tell me what I already knew as I surveyed what we were working with here.

The damn fool hadn't even taken the radiator cap off!

I placed the toolset and jug on the ground before pulling out a bandana from the pocket of my jeans so I’d have something to protect my hand as I began poking around under his hood.

All the while, I was still swearing, but only in my head now that I had an audience.

I was trying to call for a tow, the stranger said then. Walked a couple of minutes in both directions to try and catch a signal, but it didn’t help.

Welcome to West Texas.

Up until two months ago, Tupperville's population had been less than fifteen hundred souls, too little and remote to warrant enough nearby cell towers. Then the wells hit and the town swelled to twenty-five hundred people in less than two weeks. With two new fields opened up since then, the number would probably double by the end of the month.

He gave me a slow grin. That’s the best welcome I’ve had yet.

Releasing the cap, one final plume of steam hissed from the radiator while I flapped the bandana over the engine to clear away the steam. Right away, part of the problem was obvious. From the looks of it, a hose had been recently replaced and whatever genius installed it hadn't trimmed the length right. The hose needed trimmed and the clamp re-fastened. Then he’d just need a water fill and he’d be able to get back to the station in town without a tow.

The driver, who’d been watching me with silent interest the entire time, moved in close when I reached into his engine again. Careful. I don’t want you to burn yourself—

That was sweet of him, but I still elbowed him out of the way.

A little noise erupted from him, something halfway between a grunt and a growl. Only, softer. Sexier. A little closer to a low, feral purr that was having an immediate effect on my body. The hairs stood up along the back of my neck first, and then I was hit with the start of a slow pout at my nipples that tightened even more when he crowded me from behind this time.

Swiping at the back of my neck with the bandana, I funneled all my focus on the radiator.

There weren’t a lot of options. Finding and filling an empty jug would cost me at least another couple of minutes I didn’t have, but I couldn't risk driving the Chevy back to work and home again without any water. I had my own radiator problems.

For now, I just concentrated on his hose issue, grabbing my tools and getting to work.

You’re good with cars.

Not really in the mood for small talk, I simply wiped more sweat away and returned to trimming the hose. You’ll need water after I’m done, I informed him.

I’ve got a bottle of water in the car. Will that be enough to at least get me back to town?

No.

You're a terse little thing. His voice dropped lower and I could hear the smile behind the words.

I didn't know whether to be pissed off or turned on. Lucky for him, I didn't have time to decide. I probably would have rolled around to being pissed and unleashed on him for calling me a little thing. If I were little, I wouldn't have been sweating buckets trying to fix his car just so his clean, citified hands wouldn't get all greased up.

Yeah, I noticed the Mustang carried New York plates and his accent sure wasn't local. Good thing, too. If God had thought to blend a slow southern twang into this man’s deep, smoky voice, the radiator hose wouldn't be the only thing popping a clamp.

Don't have any use for chit chat. Doesn’t make me terse.

Tightening the clamp on the hose, I glanced left to where his hands curled around the Mustang's metal body. Surprisingly, they were more calloused than I expected. He had the kind of hands a girl would recognize when he touched her—big, strong and carrying more than a few nicks on them, old scars and new.

My appreciation stopped cold at his wrists though. The watch wrapped around one of them easily cost ten times as much as my old truck.

Exasperation rose up over yet another example of the rich having more money than I’d ever smell, and not a clue how to keep their privileged lives from inconveniencing us poor folk. But somehow, I pressed it back down. I didn't have time to get all hot under the collar and lose track of what I was doing. Stopping to help Mr. Moneybags had already put me a good five minutes in the hole.

Gathering up my tools and knife, I pushed the jug toward him with my foot then reached into his driver’s